13th Day of Goodmonth, 565 CY
Drachensgrab Hills, The Pomarj
Elrohir had time only to throw his arm over his face and turn away.
The first comet exploded.
But not on him.
A wave of searing heat swept over the ranger, accompanied by a brilliant orange flare and a deafening noise, but Elrohir's battle instincts quickly told him he was not mortally wounded- yet. With mere moments at best before the next fireball arrived, he turned back for a split second assessment of the situation.
Elrohir was stunned to see another figure standing between him and Cygnus, but before his mind could process what his eyes were showing him, the second shooting star struck the person dead-on. Another burst of hellish orange radiance turned the figure into nothing more than a silhouette. Fragments of a bow and other unidentifiable debris blew off the unfortunate individual. The figure jerked spasmodically as the missile hit. He or she was yelling in pain, but the roar of the fireball hid all but the faintest trace of it.
Someone jumped in front of me!
The thought raced through Elrohir's mind at light-speed, but no accompanying action came with it.
The third shooting star hit. Elrohir's unknown savior screamed out in agony again as pieces of melted plate armor came flying off. It was only after the overwhelming light and noise had died down that the party leader finally found himself moving again, his senses now confirming the identification that logic had made for him.
Argo Bigfellow Junior's auburn eyes still seem to carry the heat from the inferno he had just endured. The big ranger might have been trying to smile at his friend, but his eyes closed on him, and he collapsed to the floor.
Elrohir didn't look twice at him. He leapt over Argo's unmoving form, heading straight for Cygnus.
Nesco Cynewine gasped in astonishment as a hand suddenly reached over, grabbed the tentacle encircling her, and ripped it off.
It wasn't a human hand, but she knew it well.
Bellowing in rage, Grock the ogre, having already freed himself from the stalagmite's grasp, yanked hard on the tentacle he still held in his hand, pulling the cone-shaped monster right off of the floor.
Nesco ran over to Tojo, who was closest to her, pulled out her dagger, and began to saw through the waving limb that still held the samurai fast.
Tojo's voice was remarkably casual for the circumstances.
"Been waiting rong time for you, Nesco-san. Stone froor not very comfortaber."
The creature's tentacle, despite its rocklike appearance, had more of the consistency of dead and near-petrified wood. Nesco grimaced as she alternately dug and sawed at the limb, which was jerking around wildly as the creature struggled with the now giant-sized paladin.
Only sheer adrenaline was keeping her going. The feeling of weakness generated by the creature's grasp had not worn off.
Zantac's dagger, partially deflected by Talass' chainmail, still managed to slice into her upper abdomen at a severe angle.
The priestess cried out in pain. Her hand moved instinctively- not towards the dagger, but to her holy symbol of Forseti.
"Drop!"
Zantac's right hand opened wide at the command. The bloody dagger dropped to the floor.
Talass grabbed both of Zantac's hands and, still straddling the Willip wizard, pinned him down on the floor. It suddenly occurred to Talass that she didn't know if Zantac was stronger than her or not.
She also had no idea if he knew any spells that didn't require hand gestures.
As Zantac bucked like a wild horse, attempting to free himself, Talass found herself able to do nothing but hold on.
And of course, to pray.
Elrohir, unconsciously following his wife's battle strategy, grabbed both of Cygnus' arms as he slammed into the mage. The Aardian ranger pinned the magic-user's wrists above his head, against the cavern wall.
Cygnus' expression, a frustrated snarl, went momentarily thoughtful.
Elrohir translated.
He's thinking of a spell he can still use!
The ranger tried to slam his armored knee up into Cygnus' groin, but his plate mail restricted his knee too much, and the tactic was ineffectual. Elrohir tried to head butt, but Cygnus adroitly ducked and the ranger got nothing but a massive headache as his forehead struck the unyielding stone.
Although she had only sawed halfway through it, the tentacle holding Tojo suddenly let go. The samurai was back on his feet in an instant, as he and Nesco stood side-to-side facing the monster.
The stalagmite had wrapped all of its remaining tentacles around the ogre. Each combatant seemed intent on squeezing the other one into submission. Nesco sensed that although as an ogre Aslan would ordinarily be the stronger, the weakness generated by the creature's touch had made things more or less equal now.
Nesco and Tojo moved to the attack, but the floor suddenly dropped out from under Nesco, and she fell with a cry of surprise.
Zantac spat out a single arcane word.
A brief but brilliant flash of light dazed Talass. Zantac twisted and managed to roll her over. Although the cleric still had his hands grabbed, it was now the mage who was on top. Talass, her eyes still stinging from the flash, had trouble focusing on Zantac, who now wore an expression of fiendish glee.
Elrohir took in what was going on behind him with a brief glance, but his situation was rapidly getting worse.
Although Cygnus had not cast anything yet, the magic-user was slowly but surely forcing Elrohir's arms back. The ranger cursed to himself.
He'd forgotten how deceptively strong the thin, lanky wizard was. In just a few moments, Cygnus was going to free his hands. Already his right hand was making its way towards his left wrist to peel off Elrohir's grip.
Possibly the weakest idea ever came unbidden into Elrohir's head at that point. However, since it had no competition, it instantly became his latest miracle.
Or his final failure.
Elrohir turned his head back and yelled.
"Aslan! I can't hold Cygnus! He's going to fireball you, and you don't have your armor to protect you! Watch out!"
And with that, he let go of Cygnus' wrists and slugged the wizard as hard as he could on the jaw with a roundhouse right.
Aslan couldn't even spare a puzzled frown when he heard those words. As he tried to keep his left hand from being drawn into the stalagmite's eager circular mouth, he could only be surprised at how his friend of so many years still apparently didn't understand how his polymorphing worked. While he of course no longer benefited from his plate mail, Grock's tough and warty ogre hide afforded a reasonable degree of protection. A fireball however, made such mundane matters irrelevant. How could Elrohir make such a tactical-
A tiny glint of moving metal coming at him caught the ogre's attention. It was more instinct than anything else that moved Aslan to catch it out of the air.
"Aslan! Get away!' came Elrohir's voice again. "Polymorph again- anything! You'll die if he fireballs you!"
The paladin glanced down at what he held in his hands, and afforded himself a big, ugly, ogre smile.
Nesco's surprise at her unexpected drop was exceeded only by her amazement as Yanigasawa Tojo, without hesitation, grabbed the ranger under her arms before she went far.
Lady Cynewine looked down. The stalagmite had apparently been initially positioned over a hole in the floor, just a tad shorter than the creature's diameter. Nesco caught a brief glimpse of metal rungs set into the stone tunnel below before she was swiftly, if roughly, deposited back on her feet. She took a moment to regain her bearings, but then couldn't help but look over at Tojo.
The samurai gazed back at Nesco questioningly for a moment, and then realized he was still holding onto her.
Pulling his hands back as fast if she were made of green slime, Tojo was forced to avert his gaze.
What he saw was Elrohir, down on one knee over Argo's still form. The team leader saw Tojo looking at him and shouted out. "Tojo! Nesco! You can't save Aslan! Cygnus is going to fireball him! Go help Talass!"
Tojo raised an eyebrow. Something was not right. The samurai saw Cygnus, still against the far cavern wall, straightening up now and rubbing his chin. Aslan- or rather, Grock the ogre- was still grappling with the stone monster. He looked over at Talass still struggling with Zantac.
The samurai decided. His good friend Aslan was apparently in imminent danger from something he was not aware of, but Elrohir had given him a tactical command.
To disobey would be to show dishonor.
Tojo headed towards Talass, but Nesco was already there.
Talass breathed a sigh of relief as Cynewine hooked her arm around Zantac's neck from behind and pulled. Even in her weakened state, it was enough. Between the two women and the arriving samurai, they soon had Zantac pinned and helpless on his stomach.
"Cygnus- please don't! Aslan's your friend! You of all people know what it's like to be fireballed! Don't do it! Don't!"
Elrohir got to his feet, running away for his own safety even as he pleaded with his erstwhile friend.
Cygnus merely grinned wider. One hand pointed at the ogre, while the other swiftly and surely found what he needed in his spell component pouch.
"Aslan!" Cygnus shouted; his voice high with manic glee. "Aslan, I'm acting unilaterally again!"
He stopped laughing only long enough to cast.
At the last instant, Aslan enacted what he hoped was Stage Two in Elrohir's master plan.
And he hoped even more that Stage One would let him survive.
The stalagmite's one eye widened further as Grock swung it around, and in a stroke of luck that none of them, even Elrohir, had dared hope for, the tiny orange sphere shot towards it- and vanished inside the creature's gaping outer mouth.
For the briefest of instants, orange light spilled out of the monster's maw.
And then the stalagmite blew to pieces.
Its form not containing the fireball to any great degree, the magical fire enveloped the ogre completely.
But when it dissipated, Grock was only mildly singed.
Cygnus caught a brief glimpse of something glinting off the ogre's right hand before another fireball went off in his own head, and the magic-user blacked out.